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Story:Kings of Strife/Part 49
Chapter Forty-Nine Silverius stood atop a hill and looked upon the ruined city in awe. There was no life in Morshia, no more smoke rising to the sky, and no evidence for what could have razed it to the ground. There was only silence, and emptiness. ‘Just like me...’ He only walked now, the air too dead and dry for even his winds to blow. He was hungry, and tired, but he was not afraid. The city met him with open, skeletal arms. An entire day had passed since he clashed with the Hero of Wind, and the sun had set again before Silverius had arrived at Morshia. It was the middle of the night now, but even if the sun was high in the middle of the sky, it felt as if there would be no light within this loss of what was once a city. ‘I was going to destroy this…’ So why did he feel so disappointed? So pained? Not everything was destroyed there. Skyscrapers charred black and buildings crumpling onto each other with broken windows teased small shambles of corpses, some melting into puddles or some with their bones still reaching around in fear. Remnants of lifeless puppets and memorials extended their hands everywhere, up to the sky, to corpses near them, even to what they thought was ‘safety’, but to Silverius it appeared that each one was reaching to him. Seeking and screaming for him and the salvation he would bring. ‘Eradication. Annihilation. Torture. Not salvation…’ He had long ago grown used to his body being destroyed and his nerve cells constantly washed over with pain, but this… this was a pain he was not used to. Though he had killed and killed over and over again for all of his life – in the military, in his home, in the service of the Serpent Society, in Sumfate City, in Empiria, and in Icarun – he had never been surrounded by corpses, like this. Never had they been fresh, smoldering, and calling out to him. “He’s right, Crono. You’re not alone anymore.” “We surmount or we die. That is the Inusian way. You know this.” “Somehow I knew you’d be the one to kill me…” “I’ve always envied you!!” “She is mine, not some damsel to be rescued!” “You’ll always be a killer, Crono. It’s your destiny.” “You’re a good person, Crono. Thank you.” “Crono!” Silverius screamed. “Get out of my head! Stop speaking to me, for once, please!” He had grown accustomed to the whispers that commanded him to murder and bathe himself in blood, the ones that had crept between his ears after he lost control of the power the Crystal gifted him with, but those had faded as he gained mastery over his abilities – and they vanished completely during his months-long torture session within Icarun. Silverius had become empty. Being alone within himself was horrifying; but now, surrounded by death, he heard nothing but memories within himself, flooding back and bombarding him, with regret. ‘I don’t want to have life within me – not again.’ “Let me be alone,” Silverius moaned, “Let me just exist. Please. I can’t help anyone, not even myself. If I can’t die, just let me exist…” He fell to his knees and held his head in his hands. Both of his golden eyes stung, and he felt himself tearing up. “Do I exist? Should I exist? Who can tell me what I am? My birth was an error, wasn’t it? Speak to me… Somebody answer me!” Behind him, the Crystal seemed to pulse with power. Something moved to his side. Silverius looked up instantly, his entire body tense and ready to move. He looked around for the source of the sound with quizzical, glowing eyes. “There couldn’t possibly be anyone else alive here. Not here.” He was right. Before Silverius’ eyes, a particularly fleshy corpse started to rise from the ground, though it could not move much, as its entire lower body was crushed by singed concrete rubble. Just as slowly as it started to move, as Silverius stared at it, the corpse fell back down and lost its liveliness, quickly reverting back to just another corpse. “No,” Silverius whispered, standing up slowly and clenching his jaw. “No. It can’t be him…” He had only seen a corpse move twice before in his life, and both times, the phenomenon was the work of a Serpent Knight of Ouroboros. The Knight in question was a wizened man beneath mounds of red robes who could control undead bodies like marionettes… And Silverius was in a city full of corpses. ‘My time has come,’ the ex-prisoner thought to himself as he started to breathe deeply and his eyes radiated golden light. His right shoulder had been shattered, but had mostly healed by now; even so, it trembled and lay weakly at his side as obsidian black winds started to blow around him. “I’ll kill you right here and now!” Silverius screamed, into the city of corpses, into the abyss, and into himself. The corpses started to shudder. All around him, Silverius could see bodies struggling to move, their flesh falling off their bones like tender cuts of meat being thrown about. The ex-prisoner ignored them and walked further into the city, his face a dark and determined frown of hatred. The winds accompanied him, blowing forward and into the heart of the city that once lit the world with its lights. “You took the light from this city,” Silverius growled, dark threads of rubble and tempest blowing the life out of the corpses that twitched and struggled to return to life. They were reaching for him now, like moths extending their bodies towards a light in a ritual-like tribute to mortality, but Silverius only continued to leave them behind. “I will erase you for what you did! This was my world to destroy!” As he walked purposefully through the ruins of Morshia, Silverius remembered the last time he was there – before it lost its life and its light. His anger grew, hatred rising within him to fill up a void that had been empty for months. ‘I met Maria here, in this city, and I fought her last in the forests to the east. Since then, I have been empty. Ruined.’ “Now, I am alive again.” He could feel his winds picking up more and more shrapnel as he walked through the ruins. ‘I grow. I prosper.’ The air was palpable around him, and his own heart was tangible again as it dripped with black and base resentment. “This is my world, and I will destroy it as I see fit! Starting with you!” Silverius stopped, allowing a veritable tornado of pitch-black wind to whirl around him like massive fingers, moving back and forth and cutting apart everything in his path. Just for a moment, existence was so overwhelming. He had become infatuated with this murderous hatred, this righteous purpose and this defiance of salvation, that he felt as if he were going to drown. Now that he was standing still, the corpses in the burnt and cleanly wiped wreckage started to move and concentrate around him. Corpses crawled out of buildings and the land itself seemed to lower its sky-reaching bones, towards Silverius and the salvation he promised. ‘I promise nothing,’ he thought to himself, seething too hard to speak his words into existence. ‘Do not expect anything from me but ruination, for that is all that I am!’ Breathing became difficult as the destruction around him continued to grow more and more organically – so Silverius sought to escape. He lifted his left arm into the air before slamming it back downwards, controlling his wind with it. The action sent him flying in the air as the essence of the tempests around him pushed off the ground, and with his height came instant ease. The temporary escape was intensely therapeutic despite the fact that it was a magical strain on his body. ‘I feel nothing anymore; this body is just a fleshier skeleton.’ As he rose into the air, gravity not yet taking effect back on Silverius’ gaunt frame, he could see bodies within the windows of every building around him. The destruction had to have taken place instantaneously, out of nowhere, without a chance of evacuation. There were corpses everywhere. Despite himself, the ex-prisoner knew that taking on the entire city’s population – there had to have been millions of vaporized and burned bodies – would be something he could never accomplished. When he landed back within the city’s ephemeral clutches, the Blood Knight stood in front of him, drowning beneath his heavy red robes. Silverius allowed most of his winds to fade once he landed, his knees bent to absorb the shock of descent. He looked up, his hair and ruined black clothes flowing around him, and he glared at the shadows beneath the Knight’s hood with glowing golden eyes. “Are you finished with your tantrum?” the Knight asked. “No. I haven’t even begun yet.” The Knight chuckled. “I did not destroy this city, child of wind.” “I don’t know why you’re explaining yourself to me.” Silverius walked to the side, deliberately stepping on the skull of a twitching corpse that started crawling towards the Blood Knight. After he crushed its head, the corpse twitched and stopped moving. “I’m going to erase you either way.” “Big words, from a child.” Silverius did not reply, at first. He stood near the crumbling shadows of what was once a multicolored building, and looked down at the multicolored ashes and broken glass shards all around the charred concrete ground. The winds started to pick up, jostling around the debris, but he did not make it too tempestuous just yet. “I have been growing, and my eyes are as open as ever. I’m sure you can tell.” “You will always be just a worthless child before us, the snake.” The Knight spat onto the ground. “You have been a thorn in our side since the moment you were born. I will never understand why the Leader keeps you all alive, despite the fact that you are his biggest rivals.” Silverius paused, and though his back was turned to the Knight, he let his head turn towards the vermilion covered figure. “So you, too, cannot kill me here. None of you ever had the order to kill me, have you?” He received no answer. “Even if you did – you think that you could have taken my life?” The Knight lifted his head; a disgusted and angered frown erupted from beneath the shadows of his visage. “How wretched a blind and deaf fool is! We could have killed your grandfather centuries ago, or anyone in your lineage. It is only thanks to the Leader that you were even able to exist within this world. Your arrogance is only outshined by your ignorance!” “I told you – my eyes work fine.” Silverius turned towards the Knight, his shoulders slumped and his eyes narrowed. Despite the ethereal light glowing from his irises, his narrow eyes had no sign of life within them, and a dark shadow lingered over his face. “If you could have killed me so many times, why am I still here?” “I wish to speak no longer with a first cycle son of a whore!” The Knight stretched his hands before him, the folds of his various red outerwear layers moving about flamboyantly, and golden light shone from beneath his dark hood. “Be torn apart by my Najash!” “The answer:” Silverius smiled and lifted his left arm into the air. “Even you cannot end ruination.” With the focusing of the Blood Knight, the corpses – Najash - all around started to move as if they were extensions of his body, no longer puppets struggling with thin and disconnected strings. From all directions, broken and otherwise immobile bodies rushed and jerked to life, their hideous forms acting as direct perversions of nature. Silverius swept his left arm to the side, summoning and expanding the small tornado around him. The bodies went flying away from him, their fragile forms exploding into blood and bone as they were cast away by the harsh winds. Only a small amount of puppets survived the defense, and only then in flawed halves and fragments. Silverius took a single step forward before sensing movement all around him once again. He looked up to see hundreds of Najash leaping and throwing themselves out of the skyscrapers all around him, all of them falling right towards him, as if to bury him. ‘I can’t let them touch me,’ he reminded himself, the painful memory of Maria’s departure – the last time one of the corpses grabbed onto him, and did not let go – rearing itself into Silverius’ head. ‘They won’t budge.’ He had been walking lethargically and confidently before, but now Silverius moved swiftly in order to take control of the situation. The winds that had been swirling around him warped and hardened around his left arm like airborne snakes at his command. The Hero of Wind raised his arm as the tempest became a massive sword in his open palm, and focused his energies on extending it high into the air to rip apart the falling obstacles. His tempestblades were viciously effective against humans – so they had no problem destroying the soft, fragile corpses. Hundreds of bodies fell and impaled themselves right onto his raised tempestblade, and from the instant explosions of their flesh fell a disturbing rain of blood and fragments of bone. “Your ego will be your downfall,” Silverius heard whispered behind him, and he jumped, the tempestblade instantly dissolving from his quick lack of focus. Behind him stood the Blood Knight, just inches away from stabbing Silverius with a long knife that appeared to be made of sharpened bone. The Hero of Wind ducked away from the man, and now with the dissolving wind around his left hand he pushed himself backwards a good distance through the streets in order to give himself more distance from the Knight. ‘I didn’t see him coming,’ Silverius thought incredulously to himself quickly. ‘I should have known. Him, Vik, any of the Knights – they all have both Eyes, as well. We are on equal footing. I can’t foresee their movements.’ He landed back on the concrete with his back bent and his left hand skirting on the ground, his center of balance low and ready to move again if need be. The Blood Knight did not move from his spot, but the countless perverse bodies and fragments continued to move and shift ever organically, filling the dead city with a strange and disconcerting element of unnatural life. “There is no god for you to pray to,” the Knight boomed, “for I act in the name of this world’s only deity.” Silverius growled. “I will destroy even your god, then!” The Knight only smiled. In front of Silverius, a single Najash fell to the ground and exploded, blood and bone bursting from it as if it were a grenade of biology. ‘From above!’ The ex-prisoner looked up once again only to see the rain of bodies continuing and ever increasing as more and more bodies crawled out of their tombs and jumped to their second death. His eyes burned brightly; though these moving corpses were created and manipulated using an ability that must have originated from the magic of a Crystal, Silverius could predict the movements of the Najash just fine. They did not have the power to invoke tyranny as he and the others did. He had no choice but to dodge the raining onslaught. To summon his tempestblade again would be to leave himself open to repeated attacks from the Blood Knight or his undead soldiers still on the ground, and the focus of creating it would leave him anchored to the ground. ‘Like a wind of death, I must flow.’ Silverius kept his eyes darting from the skies to the ground, his eyes predicting the movements of the corpses and the radii of their bodily explosions. He moved even faster than his confrontation with C0; dodging, jumping, weaving and using the winds to toss his body around faster than he could achieve on his own. ‘I am the wind of ruin.’ The rain of corpses looked as if it would never end. “I am tired of this!” Silverius growled as he pushed himself out of harm’s way of a group of falling bodies entangled within each other. The winds were behind him this time; gathering them in his left hand and ducking to his knees, Silverius quickly formed the strong breeze into a sword of sorts and slammed it into the building next to him. The skyscraper, its foundation already weak from the destruction of the city, started to groan. The ex-prisoner kept moving in order to dodge the onslaught of corpses falling and rushing at him from the ground and the skies. He stayed close to the skyscraper he hit, using all of his energy to fluidly move through the air and the ground while taking any excess energy he had to hit the groaning tower of charred metal. Within the course of two minutes, Silverius had hit the leaning skyscraper multiple times, and a massive gash had appeared on the side of the building that cut almost to the middle of the building. As if he were cutting down a massive tree, Silverius continued to slash at the skyscraper, until finally it started to fall. Groaning metal and falling debris started hitting the blood-drenched streets, and for a second Silverius was sheltered from the rain of corpses as the shadow of shattered architecture covered him. As it fell, the skyscraper hit the tall buildings across the street from it, and it broke apart instantly. Huge chunks of steel, furnishings, and glass dropped loudly with a cacophony of destruction, and together with the disgusting rain of Najash it created a storm of devastation. “I have ruined this city,” the Hero of Wind breathed as he allowed himself half a moment of rest; “Next I will ruin the serpent beneath it.” Just as a bullet bursts from the barrel of a rifle pointed right to an enemy, and the victim is unable to move from the path of the gunpowder-ignited projectile though they foresee it and the catalyst of its movement; so Silverius threw the wind behind him and erupted towards the Blood Knight, who had been taken aback for an entire moment at Silverius’ clever tactics. The ex-prisoner flew through the air just seconds before a collapsing portion of the falling skyscraper slammed into the corpse-covered concrete beneath him, and he rocketed right into the Blood Knight with his hands on the man’s throat. The impact of Silverius’ long-range lunge forced the Blood Knight onto the ground, and he slid backwards on the blood-slick concrete for a good ten feet. As the two finally came to a stop, Silverius’ knees on the Knight’s chest and his left hand on his throat, the Knight’s hood flew off his head. As the rain of devastation continued to fill the streets with dust, cacophonous noise, and blood, the two looked in each other’s eyes with equal amounts of scorn. “I am tired of you, and everything,” Silverius growled as his grip tightened around the Knight’s neck. Slowly, he raised his trembling, blood-covered right hand, allowing a small torrent of the residual wind to whip around his open palm, like a small storm of darkness. “I will plunge this hurricane into your chest,” Silverius whispered, “And I will have accomplished the first part of my goal. Speak now, if you will, before you become one with your blasphemous puppets.” “It is finished,” croaked the Knight, and Silverius lost control of his body. “Wh-what?” The Hero of Wind saw his hand let go of the Blood Knight’s body, and he stood with the hurricane still raging within his right palm, but he never broke eye contact with the man covered in scarlet cloth. Though he stared right into the Knight of Blood’s eyes, Silverius could see his own right hand slowly rising and directing its storm right towards his own chest. He could feel the small storm ripping apart his shirt from the close proximity already, and his skin started to tingle and sting, but he never broke eye contact with the man in front of him. “Woe to humanity if this is the chosen savior of it! Pity to the world that relies on so weak a fool! I can command the blood of the damned, and you are covered in it, child. This city is ruined – and you declare yourself ruination itself. Is it not egotistical to think you, too, are immune to my magic?” The Knight stood with a slimy smile, slowly and with his head slightly bowed, as if in mocking reverence. “I look forward to making you one of my most useful Najash.” The chaotic rain of corpses and concrete had long ago stopped falling, but a new precipitation of magic suddenly started to descend, even without any winds in the air. H4, the Blood Knight, could not break eye contact with Silverius – so he did not anticipate the storm of ethereal magical arrows that slammed into his body. A wretched scream ripped through the crumbling city as the Knight stepped backwards, four violet purple arrows impaled into his robes. Hundreds more fell to the bloody ground, inaccurate but so comprehensive that no sort of precision was necessary. The Knight somehow managed to keep at least one eye open, his focus hanging onto the Hero of Wind, but Silverius could feel the magic weakening and his body beginning to return to his control. Only a second passed before Silverius recognized the sort of magic that was being used to rescue him. “You… You dare to come here and attack me, in the midst of our final movements!!” The Blood Knight spoke before Silverius did – and his exclamation confirmed Silverius’ theory. The Chosen Knight walked past Silverius confident, her dark violet hair dancing behind her as she crossed her arms. Her dark green Ouroboros cloak was spotless. “You knew I would be here.” “Not yet… Not yet! I didn’t want to believe what the Leader said, but I was still prepared… How did you get here without me noticing?!” The magical arrow rain had ceased by now, and the Blood Knight continued to falter backwards as the Chosen Knight advanced towards him. His blood dripped onto the ground beneath him, serenely, like tiny drops of rain into a river. “You were more occupied with the Hero than you realize. I’ve never seen you so focused.” “Shut up! I’ll kill you both, right here…!” “Will you? Perhaps you’d be able to take him down now, but do you really think you can evade both of us?” The Blood Knight scowled darkly at both of his enemies, his bloodied visage showing more than a little stress. “What are you doing?!” Silverius screamed. His fury was wanton and unexpected enough to grab the Chosen Knight’s attention, and for the first time she turned back to look at him with incredulation. “Finish him, Maria! Right now!” The Knight froze and turned her back on Silverius once again, this time with her head lowered. “Maria… That’s not my name any longer. I’ve told you this.” “I don’t care!” Silverius trembled, his body’s muscles straining to move, but he was still beneath the spell of the Blood Knight. Even the winds did not answer the call of his will, not yet. “Just kill him! Finish it!” “I…” The Knight hesitated just a moment more before raising her hand to the Knight once again. “Of course.” She was too late. A frustrated gasp emerged from the Chosen Knight as the upper half of a Najash launched itself at her waist, tackling her and sending her to the ground. Three more corpse puppets rose up from the various piles of festering flesh bordering the streets, and they jumped onto the Knight’s body in order to dogpile her into a supine prison. “Damn you!!” Silverius screeched again, his body burning as if it were going to rip itself apart in his frustration, and he finally overcame the spell of H4’s control. He bent over and flexed his arms, screaming and summoning the winds to whirl around him as quickly as possible, but he too was too late; a corpse puppet jumped onto his back and sent him stumbling forward. “No!” He struggled with the fragile – yet surprisingly unyielding – corpse, pulling its cold hands off his back and arching his back to get it off, but his efforts were futile. ‘My wind – I can’t use my wind!’ The Najash was sapping his energy, it seemed, to the point that he could not summon any tempestuous aids. “No!” More and more Najash and half-destroyed corpses leapt onto him, until the weight of rotting flesh proved too strong for Silverius’ rage. He fell to the ground face first, the Blood Knight’s smiling face the only thing he saw before the stained black of the stained road took over his vision. “Come, and challenge me again, in the city of liege! Even a traitor cannot flee the will of the Leader, and you both will be my next puppets!” Silverius heard the triumphant cries of the Blood Knight mere moments before he heard the familiar sound of the Chosen Knight rending reality, summoning her unreal dream weapons undoubtedly to finish what she started. Next Silverius heard the sound of arrows thwinging into concrete, and the fluttering of robes, and then silence. The immobile silence lasted for at least an hour, and its ending was abrupt. The heavy corpses suddenly became heavier, losing all semblance of weight and motor control, but they lost their tenacious strength. Silverius stood, slowly throwing off the undead shackles that had prevented him from using an ounce of his power, his shoulders trembling with paroxysm. The Chosen Knight stood afterwards, her shackles falling away easily as well. When they both stood to their full height, the Knight looked back to Silverius with her golden eyes, but the Hero of Wind did not look back. He frowned, his lips quivering, and he looked to the ground. All around, in every direction, the once-ruthless corpses now lay silent and pitiable again. Silverius walked in the direction the Blood Knight had went, his dirty black shoes splashing in the river of blood that coated the black street. The Chosen Knight followed in silence. ***** As darkness fell on Inusia, the moans of the fallen faded from the wind, but Silverius could still hear them ringing in his ears. He could still see them, draped around the ground; hanging haphazardly out of windows; sprawled out on the ground, reaching forward, towards something they could never grasp. Strewn about, mouths open, bodies unnaturally ripped apart. He sighed and exhaled deeply, hoping to push away the memories and the emotions but knowing they would never fade. All of his explosive frustration had slowly faded over his exodus from Morshia, slowly melting into resentment and remorse. So many people had died, and so many more people would die – all because of his actions, and his inactions. ‘I truly am ruin.’ He stood on a hill that felt like rocks. Of course, there were no rocks here, in the land between two rivers and two cities. The demolished ruins of Morshia City were hours behind him, to the west; ahead of him, to the east, rose King’s Town, the next destination on Queen Vainia’s path of destruction. The same path of slaughter that he once championed, and the same one he was now racing to end. Was that why he was racing? Silverius said nothing and tried not to think, only to stand where he was and not move. The wind blew past him, heading on a northern breeze, shifting and undulating the tides unfurled in front of him. The wide Frigizi Channel lay outstretched ahead like a lover arching their back, their clothes falling off their shoulders, promiscuous and fragile. The waters were dark, as was the sky; there were no stars, no moon, and no life. The wind blew past Silverius’ gaunt, thin cheeks once more, and it began to snow. “It’s beautiful,” his lover said as she walked up to his perch overlooking the sea. She still wore the dark olive cloak of Ouroboros, though after being covered with Najash the cloth was stained with blood. Silverius allowed himself one glance at her, just enough to sip on her features and not become inebriated. “Yes,” he said grudgingly, as he averted his golden eyes away from the face of the girl he remembered was not Maria. This was the first words they had exchanged with one another since the end of their battle hours ago.“I never understand how it continues to affect me, even though I’ve seen it with many different eyes, many different times.” He could feel the Chosen Knight look over to him. “So you can see it,” she said after a moment of staring. “You can see what I do. The world, in all its glory.” “Can I?” Silverius sighed. “I don’t think we’re talking about the same world.” “The world of truth,” she replied adamantly. “I know you can see it now, with those eyes. The same world I’ve been seeing this entire time. The same world you seek to save now.” “The Crono you knew is dead,” the Chosen Hero of the Wind Crystal stated. “In his place is only ruin.” The Chosen Knight sighed now, and she turned fully to Silverius. She took only a single step closer, and the wind blew her long, wavy hair about her shoulders. “Crono is all I have ever known. The man named Silverius may waver, but the heart named Crono never will.” Silverius could not help but narrow his eyes and bite his lip. “Don’t call me that. That man has been dead for years. You never knew him.” “You’re wrong,” she urged. “I remember.” The snow fell between the two like ashes, and Silverius felt fire rising in his chest. He closed his eyes and crossed arms over his chest, caging his ribs to keep the beating of his heart muffled. Hushed in every sense, he shook his head and spoke. “I told you not to follow me, in Shorica. I told you to focus and not to help me in Morshia, and I wish you would turn back and help Vik. He’s the hero. He’s the one who wants to save the world. He’s the good person.” “You and I are both Chosen. I will not leave you.” “I am a storm of ruin, and Vainia has become a queen of ashes, corpses, and war. We were chosen to save this world, but only one of us seeks not to destroy it. I will destroy, and then I will fade.” Silverius turned and looked the Chosen Knight in her eyes, and both of them burned with the power of the Tyrant. “Of all people, I knew you would lie to me the most. All you’ve ever done to me was lie.” “You’re wrong!” The Knight’s lip quivered, but she stared back at her lover with unwavering energy. The wind continued to blow her cloak and hair about her, though she paid them no mind. “I have long ago regained all of my memories. The Blood Knight returned them to me, at my own behest. I know the truth, and I see all that I was blind to before. And I see you… especially you.” She took another step closer to Silverius, and now the two stood almost nose to nose. She looked up to the taller mercenary and her frown melted. “Even after a thousand years of unending delusion, I would never forget you.” Silverius closed his eyes and turned away. He let his arms fall to his sides and looked over the horizon in front of them. The sky was dark as gloom, yet the view in front of him seemed oddly vibrant, alive, as if full of memory. All ahead was darkness, but as Silverius stared intently into the midnight clouds and the canvas of void behind them, he swore he could see colors blossoming forward like wild flowers. They swirled and danced about, irritated and full of life, pulling up the sharp waves of the sea to waltz with them behind the fog of the night. A blink, and the dance of the night had faded, and with another blink Silverius felt that he was next to fade. “I’ve killed,” he moaned. “I’ve killed hundreds, without remorse. I have killed fathers, and wives. Brothers and sisters. Innocents and those deserving of death. I did not regret any of it. I lost no sleep from the deaths, only my own nightmares. I have lived my life bathing in the blood of others, as a way to keep myself clean. But now… being alone in that city, it was like I saw them all. Every one I’ve ever killed, coming back to bury me. I was all alone.” “You are not alone. If I had not met you… I would be helping to destroy the world, even now.” A sigh bloomed deeply from within his chest, and he closed his eyes in the feeling of it. “It’s different with me. I have killed myself, over and over, in search of truth. Unlike you, I have known my truth all along.” “As have I,” his lover affirmed. “I told it to you even when I was not I, and when I did not know you. Even blind, my eyes could see your truth.” “You made me promise that I would forget you,” he whispered, still with his eyes closed. They were beginning to sting, and a small snowflake fell to his cheek and stayed there. It melted to water and drifted down to his chin. “You made me promise that I would be happy. Even if it was for you… I could never achieve any of those.” The Chosen Knight sighed and sat down, her legs crossed and her hands resting on her bent knees. Now she looked intently to the same sky, with enough focus that she seemed to be composing the art that Silverius saw in a flash of illusion. “For months I dreamt a dream I thought was life. I learned that I cannot escape myself, nor can anyone escape those destined to be with them, not even with a promise.” “Destiny, huh…” “Indeed. It twists around us without an end in sight, but perhaps there truly is no end. Perhaps our only end is to break the cycle and selfishly reach, towards the end of ourselves.” The Knight laughed humorlessly, jostling the pure white snow that had fallen on her long violet hair cascading over the hood of her cloak. “In my dream I was running. I ran from reality, and a love I thought was genuine, and the fact that I had no answers to my questions, only spoon-fed prophecies and destinies. I ran from the truth, unaware that I would have to create my own in order to truly escape.” “You met me in your dream,” Silverius added. He still stood, and he shivered. “I am just a phantom to you, then. An illusion. No wonder you subjugated my very life when you returned to yourself.” “No, I was the illusory one. I was the one fooled. When I realized the truth of what I was born to do, I was lost.” The two did not move, and the snow fell around them, peacefully. They watched the same sky and kept their heads low, with reverence. “A lot of me was lost in you,” the Hero confessed. “Even when I was surrounded with Vik, or Karilyn, or the people I killed, I never felt as alone as I did when you left.” “I hurt you,” the woman once known as Maria said as she closed her eyes. “I will never forget that.” Silverius turned away and ran his hand through his hair. “The man you hurt is dead now. Think nothing of it.” His lover shook her head. “…I was always different from my siblings, because I never forgot, and I took my time. I am the same as them inside, but I was the only one to stop constantly using my Tyrant Eyes. I took my time to see, and I was the only one who saw the world as it is. Beautiful, patient, and vibrant. So full of colors, even when it is all gray with fog or when it is mere moments of darkness before nightfall. Even so, I was one of them, and deep inside I still might be. I did not have memories of moments, only instructions and prophecies for that which was to come. There was someone I thought I loved… but it is impossible for me to love someone so close to myself. There was a fight I swore to pick up a sword for, but its result was not something I ever wanted. I never wanted to see the world entrenched in death or waste. Truly, I never wanted ruination. It took so long for me to realize that, and when I did… I ran from my own life.” “You don’t want ruination.” “You’re right. I want existence, and with you.” Silverius felt a tear run down his cheek, and he wondered if it was made of salt or blood. “Life is so… relentless. It never ends, until someone takes it from you, and before that it is only suffering and already made choices.” A memory of the dark depths of Icarun rushed down his spine, and his eyes let fall another tear. “I wish I could exist without pain, or death, or life. Simple, pointless existence.” “I love the way you exist.” He could hear the former Serpent Knight stand and gently step towards him. “No matter what, I can never run away from the truth. You told me that, when you broke through the illusions I was born to create, after we fought in Empiria. While I was showing you my illusions, you showed me the truth of your existence. I remember it all. I could never forget.” “But you did,” Silverius said, “and the truth has changed now. I can’t love. I never could. Everyone I love dies, because I kill them.” “You opened your heart to me before, when I was dreaming.” Silverius’ lover pulled gently on the back of his torn shirt. “Now, I am awake.” The mercenary did not budge, though his shoulders faltered. “How could you ever remember me? What have I ever given you that is meaningful enough for you to chase a specter and a murderer?” “Gentleness and sadness. So many things, that I found out only after I met you! You have given me the ability to see the world’s true beauty and the resolve to fight for it. I know you still have that inside you, and that it will never fade – that is how I can still know you. My endless, true desires live on through you, and you have proven to be unending. Happiness and existence have eluded us, but together we can simply exist in a world we protect. Your voice, your hair, your hands, your hatred and your pure love… even if we were separated for a thousand years, I would never forget about you. We are both Chosen for a reason.” Silverius shook, and after a moment of silence, he finally turned and looked at the Knight. His natural obsidian black eyes were shimmering and almost bursting with tears, and the snow had slightly intensified all around the both of them. Behind the Chosen Knight was a snowstorm, creeping closely to the Inusian continent and visibly swirling up the atmosphere, using the pureness of its white brush to mix the palette of darkness. Silverius saw none of it, yet he still saw the truth. “Do you think the dead will ever forgive us, one day? After we have joined them, or even before?” The Chosen Knight blinked elegantly, and her Tyrant Eyes vanished as well. She looked up at Silverius with eyes of natural red. “I cannot speak for the dead, but I know I will always forgive you, for you and I are destined to save lives. I have already forgiven you, from the moment I met you.” “You are a queen,” he said as he sniffed. “I am a servant, stained endlessly with blood.” “The man I used to think was my father once told me that we are all royalty, if we choose it. No one can erase your own kingdom.” “Myself, as a king…” Silverius couldn’t help but laugh. “My world is ruined, saved, and ruined again.” He lowered his head, allowing his forehead to lay on the Chosen Knight’s, and the two looked in each other’s eyes as the snow of ash blew about them both. “Just as I have. Just as I always have been, and always will be.” “Then let us rule over ruin together.” ...End of Chapter Forty-Nine. <- Previous Page | Main Page | Next Page->